


In Days Gone By

by whittler_of_words



Series: Antebellum [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Monsters on the Surface, Pre-War, Reader Is Chara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a kid you somehow didn’t see parked out on the grass a little ways away. He’s sitting cross-legged on a blanket, his back to you, and your eyes flick down to the basket at his side. It’s a picnic. The stereotype pains you. You think he’s reading a book.</p><p>You reach, slowly, to where the basket sits half-open. If you can just reach inside you can take something and leave before you get caught--</p><p>“It’s rude to take stuff without asking, you know,” he says, and you jerk your hand back so fast you fall on your ass and almost hit yourself in the process.</p><p>--</p><p>In the midst of a city on the verge of war, two children forge an unlikely friendship that may hold the key to their happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. honey, you've got a big storm comin

The ratty old jacket is way too hot and scratches at the cuts scabbing on the inside of your arms, but if you walked around this side of the city without it you’d be dead, so. You may be a lot of things, but you’re not stupid. Hungry, sure, and tired, and violent, and _really fucking hungry, _but not stupid. Maybe just a tad desperate, though. Just a little. It’s why you’re in this place to begin with, isn’t it?__

__You count out your change. A few nickels. A couple pieces of gold. Not enough to get something to eat. Damn it. Cursing, you gather up the coins from where you’d laid them out on the floor and stuff them into your pocket. You could probably steal something. Scratch that; you _know_ you can steal something, especially from the little grocery store whose dumpster you’re currently squatting behind, because you’ve done it before when you’d been have a particularly bad time and the bird monster behind the counter hadn’t even suspected a thing. You _really_ don’t like doing it, though. The monsters here are too trusting. You’re pretty sure that even if you didn’t bother walking around town with your hood up and hiding your face, most of them wouldn’t even bat an eye. Every day you spend in this place just makes you think that none of them have even _seen_ a human before. It’d make sense. This part of the city is pretty far from the border, after all._ _

__You still keep it on though. You feel bare without the hood pulled over your face, now. The risk is too great to leave it down, anyway; if even one monster recognizes you for what you are, well....Like you said. You’d be dead._ _

__(And maybe you like how you can pretend you’re not a human when you have it up. Like you’re one of them. Even if just for a little while.)_ _

__Aaand, on that note. Tugging said hood to make sure it’s in place, you duck out behind the dumpster and into the street. The ever ongoing search for food. It continues._ _

__Your feet carry you to the park without much input from you. Probably for the best. It’s too risky to sleep there -- too many kids making it their mission to find all the hidden places, too many adults pushing their noses into places they don’t belong -- but sometimes an absent-minded little kid will leave a snack abandoned on the playground, or someone will leave something perfectly edible in the trash. You’re practically guaranteed to find something there._ _

__Unless-- ugh. It’s a weekday. Not so many people will have stopped by. Whatever. It might still be worth a shot._ _

__Like you thought, it’s empty when you get there. A precursory search through the playground equipment finds you a half-eaten granola bar, though, which is nice. You shove the entire thing in your mouth as you swing off the side and back onto the ground; no use trying to draw it out when it’s just the same amount of food in the end. Monster food, too. It’s made of magic, mostly, so it never makes you feel full no matter how much you stuff your face, but every little bit helps._ _

__You stretch, casting your gaze around the rest of the park. Surely there’s something else here. A discarded bag of takeout, or some chips, or-- oh shit._ _

__There’s a kid you somehow didn’t see parked out on the grass a little ways away. He’s sitting cross-legged on a blanket, his back to you, and your eyes flick down to the basket at his side. It’s a picnic. The stereotype pains you. You think he’s reading a book._ _

__You pad closer, in the perfectly quiet way it took you ages to perfect and you’re actually kind of proud of. Your feet make no sound on the grass. He doesn’t notice you. You get close enough that you could read over his shoulder if you wanted, just because you can and you kind of need to get that close anyway. He has fur, you note. All white. You wonder if it means something. Your stomach clenches a little painfully. You’re getting off-track._ _

__You reach, slowly, to where the basket sits half-open. If you can just reach inside you can take something and leave before you get caught--_ _

__“It’s rude to take stuff without asking, you know,” he says, and you jerk your hand back so fast you fall on your ass and almost hit yourself in the process._ _

“I _wasn’t,_ ” you breathe, too quickly. He turns to you, an amused smile on his face. He thinks it’s funny. Fuck him for getting a laugh out of this. Fuck him. Fuck you for getting caught. You scowl, drawing into yourself a little. Your heart is racing. The way his smile falls almost makes you think he can tell. 

__“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, and you’re suddenly confused, “I just, um. Wanted to say something?” He sets the book down in his lap. The smile on his face seems different now, but you can’t figure it out, so you stop thinking about it and instead keep your eye on him as he reaches for the basket. “Here, uh.” He reaches inside, pulling out a neatly wrapped sandwich and holding it out to you. He’s still smiling. “You’re probably hungry, huh?”_ _

You look at him. You look at the sandwich. You don’t get it. You’re pretty sure he knows you were just about to steal his food and run, and here he is just offering it to you anyway. He doesn’t even _know_ you. But- he’s a monster. As much as you don’t understand it, random acts of kindness are kind of their thing. You got fucking caught, though, and he’s way too close. Your pride answers for you. 

__“I don’t want your pity,” you snap._ _

__He has the audacity to blink. “What?” He looks down at his still outstretched hand. “I don’t see any pity. I’m pretty sure this is just a sandwich,” he says, humor in his voice. He continues on before you have the chance to say anything. “Um, seriously though, my mom packed way too much for just me and I was going to end up throwing this away anyway. So. It’s yours if you want it.” He deliberates a moment before setting it on the grass by your feet. “See? It sure would be a waste if no one were to eat that, don’t you think?”_ _

__For a moment. Just for a moment, you consider getting up and walking away just to spite him, because he’s treating you like a child and you bet you’re older than him, but then your stomach growls and you snatch the sandwich from the grass before he has the chance to see your face warm._ _

__“Thanks,” you mutter. Your fingers shake a little as you unwrap the plastic. You’re really hungry. The boy in front of you doesn’t say anything as you wolf the entire thing down in quick, decisive bites, and in return you don’t say anything when you look up to find another sandwich at your feet. This one you eat more slowly._ _

__“What’s your name?” he asks, out of nowhere enough that you almost choke. Almost. He at least has the decency to look apologetic when you glare at him._ _

__“...Chara,” you answer, and his expression immediately brightens._ _

__“Chara, huh? That’s a nice name. My name is Asriel.” He turns, like, actually turns so that his whole body is facing you and not just his head. You try not to twitch under the sudden attention. “Do you come here a lot?”_ _

__“Why?” you ask, not a little suspiciously. With how eagerly he answers, you don’t think he notices._ _

__“This is my first time,” he admits. “My mom and dad are always too busy to take me here, and they don’t like me going very far on my own. They worry about me, I guess? It’s kind of dumb. I can take care of myself!” He puffs out his chest a little, grinning. “I’ve been getting a lot better at my magic, so I think they’re finally starting to realize it.”_ _

__“They’re right, you know,” you say. He blinks at you, and the way his confusion makes his eyebrows scrunch up almost makes you want to laugh. You’re not sure why you’re saying this either. “It’s dangerous out here. What if there’s a human?”_ _

__There it is. The caution that’s been missing. He fidgets with his fingers a little anxiously, not saying anything for a moment. “I don’t know... The Royal Guard--”_ _

__“Barely does anything,” you interrupt, finishing for him. You take another bite of your sandwich. Mouth full, you continue, “There’s not enough of them to patrol the entire border, and, like, have you seen the dogs? It’s not that hard to get past them if you pet them enough.” Something you learned through experience. You’d been terrified of meeting the Guard’s Captain; you hadn’t been expecting the dog in oversized armor. Good thing you’re a dog person. Thinking about it makes you smile._ _

“Oh.” Asriel’s starting to look a little uncomfortable. You think, _good_ , but then you can’t figure out why you thought that, and that definitely doesn’t make you uncomfortable at all. “You...You don’t think a bad human would come _here_ , right?” He looks up at you, hopefully, “It’s not like we have anything in Ebbott they don’t have in the human town. We’re pretty close together, after all! And even if one did manage to find their way through, who says they have to be so awful? Maybe they just want to visit, or talk, or--” 

__You cut him off again, except this time it’s with a laugh. “Oh my god. If you really think that, then your parents are stupid for letting you out of the house at all!”_ _

__“Hey!” he starts, but he’s gotten you started and you can’t seem to make yourself stop._ _

“Humans are evil,” you tell him, matter of factly. “They lie, and they steal, and cheat, and they don’t think twice about hurting or killing anybody or anything like that. I’ve met them before. They’re awful. If any of them come over here, it’s not gonna be because they want to talk. And even if they do, it’s just going to be because they want something! They just take, and take, all the time!” You tear into the last bite of your sandwich viciously, biting your cheek in the process. You wad up the sticky plastic wrapping into a sticky plastic ball and toss it out into the grass, glaring after it. “I _hate_ them.” 

Asriel is quiet. You can’t seem to make yourself look at him. You wonder if you shocked him. This time, when you think “good”, you know exactly why. No one can afford to think the best in people in times like these. Things have always been uneasy between humans and monsters, ever since the two species found each other so long ago, but tensions have been rising steadily the last couple of years. Everyone knows there’s been talk of war. You’re pretty sure the only reason that the humans haven’t lead a full-front attack on the town of monsters is because the Monster King and Queen have been trying so hard to keep things peaceful. It makes you sick. No matter how hard the monsters try to hold it off, you know better than anybody. If humans really want something, they take it. And the humans _really_ want war. 

“Well... They can’t be _all_ bad, right?” Asriel starts. “I mean. _You’re_ good, aren’t you?” 

__You freeze. “What.” You turn to him, a smile frozen on your face. “Did you just say?”_ _

__“Oh! I’m sorry!” He covers his mouth apologetically, eyebrows shot up into his fur. “Were you trying to keep it a secret?”_ _

__You stare at him for a moment. And then another. Finally, a giggle rises up through your chest. “You knew.” You keep laughing, because you can’t seem to make yourself stop, and you might as well roll with it. “You knew the whole time.”_ _

__“Not the whole time! I wasn’t so sure at first, but then I saw your face and I kind of figured it out? Um. Hey, are you okay?”_ _

__“Are you going to kill me?” you ask him, and he scrambles back so fast he knocks over the basket._ _

__“What! No!! Why would- why would I do that?”_ _

“I’m--” You stare at him for a moment in bafflement. “Hello? I’m a human. I’m a huge breach in your security! I could kill you all! Are you just going to- to let me _go?_ ” 

__He shakes his head vigorously, and you quietly palm the switchblade tucked in the back waistband of your shorts. You don’t- you don’t want to hurt him, but you’re not just going to let him magic you to death without a fight. Give him a cool story to tell his friends, at least. That’s cool, right? Boasting to all your friends about how you defeated the evil scary human is cool? You’re pretty sure it is. You prepare yourself to put on a show. You’re so tired. At least you got something good to eat._ _

__He stops shaking his head. “No! Of course not! I was- I mean, I was going to invite you over for dinner,” he says, and you freeze again, “Do you... Do you want to come over for dinner?”_ _

__You’re pretty sure your mouth is hanging open. You close it. “I really don’t understand you,” you blurt out._ _

__He laughs a little. “That’s okay. Maybe you can...start to? You know. Over dinner?”_ _

You snort, despite yourself. And it really is despite yourself; you’ve been so careful these past couple of months, and all it took was one kid and a couple feet of distance for every single one of your precautions to come tumbling down. You don’t really have a choice here, do you? If you say yes, he’s going to take you to his house and his parents will inevitably have more sense than him and you’ll be dead. If you say no, he’s going to go home and tell his parents and they’ll _still_ have more sense than him and when they sound the alarm, you’ll be dead. You literally can not win here. 

__You’d rather face your demise head on than be hunted down like some scared, cornered animal, though._ _

__Damn it._ _

__When you finally tune back into reality, Asriel is still sitting there, watching you anxiously. You’re concerned for a moment about what expressions he must have seen crossing your face before you remind yourself it doesn’t matter. You stand, using the motion to pull the switchblade from your waistband and hide it in your sleeve fast enough you’re pretty sure Asriel doesn’t notice. He jumps up after you._ _

__“Fine,” you say, watching as his face positively lights up. This kid is really eager to watch you die. “I’ll come over for your stupid dinner.”_ _

__“Cool!” He starts gathering up his blanket, folding it halfheartedly before just giving up and shoving the entire thing into the basket. You pull your hood back over your face. It’d fallen back a little while you talked. “Mom makes the best pies,” he says as he stands up straight, book under his arm and basket over his shoulder, “but that’s for dessert. She’s the best cook, though, so I’m sure you’ll like whatever she makes.” He bounces on his feet and starts heading in the opposite direction you came from, deeper into the city. You follow hesitantly after. “Oh, oh, and maybe I can get Dad to make you some of the tea he really likes! It’s sooo good. Do you like tea?”_ _

__“It’s alright.” That’s a lie. You love tea. From the way Asriel smiles, though, you might as well have told him the truth._ _

__Walking through the streets towards Asriel’s house and your certain death, you can almost pretend everything’s going to be okay._ _


	2. i said hey! what's going on?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shifts the basket on his arm. “Come on, let’s go inside. It might not be too late to ask Mom to make you something special, and-- oh!” He turns to you, whatever nervousness he was feeling replaced by an excitement you can’t even begin to understand, “Do you wanna see my room?”

The further Asriel leads you, the less you have any idea what’s going on.

Either he doesn’t notice your confusion, or he’s polite enough to not say anything about it, because he keeps prattling on about anything and everything that crosses his mind, it seems. He waves a couple times to a few monsters here and there -- he seems to know everybody, it feels like -- but he doesn’t stop to talk to them. You kind of wish he would.

When he finally does stop, you almost bump into him.

“We’re here!” He says, offering you a broad smile.

“Wait,” you say, looking from him to the actual literal castle in front of you, “Are you serious?”

He laughs nervously. “Haha, uh, yes. It’s a lot cozier on the inside, I promise. It’s mostly for show?” He shifts the basket on his arm. “Come on, let’s go inside. It might not be too late to ask Mom to make you something special, and-- oh!” He turns to you, whatever nervousness he was feeling replaced by an excitement you can’t even begin to understand, “Do you wanna see my room?”

You let out a sigh. “Sure.” Might as well postpone the inevitable. You smile a little. You’re not sure how well it turns out once it’s actually on your face, but it seems to make him happy, because next thing you know he’s practically bouncing toward the space where a door would be in a regular, sensible home. But hey. You don’t really know much about those anyway. 

A fucking _castle,_ though.

He leads you through the halls, chattering as much as ever. You’re surprised to find that he was right; it _is_ a lot cozier on the inside. He’d said the outside was mostly for show, hadn’t he? Show for what, though? Maybe his family is rich? But if so, where are the servants? Do monsters have servants, even? Well, if they do, it’d probably be the rich ones, wouldn’t it? This is confusing. You’re confusing yourself. Stop it.

He throws open a door a lot sooner than you expected. “Here we are!” he says, tromping inside. You follow after a little more slowly and close the door behind you. “This is my room.” He dumps the basket on the bed, turning to you expectantly with his hands on his hips. “What do you think?”

You look around the room, taking in the bed against the wall, the wardrobe across from it. There are some toys at the foot of the bed, and they honestly look kind of cool -- like nothing you’ve ever had -- but you walk past them in order to inspect a couple of drawings taped to the wall. There are some carefully drawn figures you think might be him and his parents. A couple of other ones, too, that you can’t really identify when you don’t know who they’re supposed to be. All of them are smiling.

Asriel rocks back on his feet nervously when you turn back to him. It’s almost like your opinion really matters to him. Which is dumb. 

“It’s alright,” you finally say, shrugging a little, because you think you actually might be kind of jealous and you’re not entirely sure what to do with that. He smiles like you just told him it’s the coolest fucking room you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Not that that’d be too far from the truth either way. “Who else lives here?”

“Just Mom, Dad, and me,” he says, scratching his chin. “Pretty much anyone is welcome to come here, though, so we have a couple other rooms just in case. But it’s just us right now. I could show you those ones too if you want?” It’s his turn to shrug. “They’re not as interesting, though.”

So...they _don’t_ have servants. Guess that’s settled. “No, it’s fine.” You shake your head with the words, and the dirty fuzz of your hood scratches at your face in a way that’s really uncomfortable. Ugh. To hell with it. You pull the hood off all the way, shaking your head again more out of habit than anything, only to look up when Asriel makes a noise.

“What,” you say, frowning. He looks concerned.

“What happened to...?” He gestures vaguely to his face. You blink. Oh.

“M’fine,” you mutter, shifting on your feet and trying your best to look like someone who’s not self-conscious about the huge bruise on their face. At least, you think it’s huge. It _feels_ huge. You haven’t really been able to get to a mirror to check it for a couple days. “Got in a fight. It’s fine.”

It looks for a moment like he’s about to question you further, but he just hums thoughtfully instead. “You should ask my mom for help. She’s just started learning healing magic. She says she’s not very good at it yet, but she might be able to do something to make it better.”

“Yeah,” you say lamely. He really has no idea what’s going to happen to you, does he? You kind of don’t want to be there when he finds out. “I’ve had worse, though, so. You know. No big deal.”

“Oh.” He’s back to fidgeting with his fingers again. “Um--”

He’s interrupted by footsteps and a voice from down the hall. “Asriel? Is that you I hear?” The door opens before you have the chance to react.

A woman stands there, white fur and long ears a lot like Asriel’s and a lot like one of the scrawls in his picture. The resemblance is strong enough either way that you have no doubt this is the Mom he was talking about. In the end, though, it’s not her overly tall stature or sudden appearance or fangs that have you scrambling back. 

It’s the Delta Rune on her chest.

You jerk back into the wardrobe hard enough to bang your elbows and nearly topple the entire thing over. Someone yells. You’re dead. You’re fucking dead-- you’re _worse_ than dead, oh god, oh god, they’re not even going to kill you, they’re going to lock you up and forget about you until you waste away or worse, like, like garbage, and you _won’t let them, you **won’t** \--_

“Child, _please!_ ” an unfamiliar voice says, cutting through your panic like a well-aimed knife. The last however-much-time is the incomprehensible blur it usually is when you flip your shit like this -- you think it was only a few seconds this time, you can’t tell for sure -- but Asriel’s mom is inside the room with her hands raised placatingly and you think Asriel is frozen by his bed where he was before. You don’t look away to check. “Please, calm down,” she says, voice steady and soothing and how dare she, how dare she, “You are in no danger. I swear it.”

You don’t say anything, staring at her wide-eyed, heaving in breath after breath. She glances from your face to something just a little south, and your gaze followers hers before you can stop yourself to see-- oh. Okay. Alright. You don’t remember pulling out your switchblade, but it’s in your hands now, held out in front of you like the weapon it is. Some of your fingers are gripped around the wrong end of it, but that’s fine. Her caution makes a little more sense.

“We are going to leave the room,” she says, very slowly, “and give you a chance to gather yourself. You are free to join us when you are ready.”

She motions to Asriel. He cautiously makes his way over to her. You don’t see much of his face. You think he looks scared.

You don’t move for a couple seconds when the door closes behind them. When you do, it’s to collapse on the floor, breathing out shakily. The knob of a drawer on the wardrobe digs into your back as you lean against it, but you don’t move away, instead just focusing on your breathing. You can’t panic like this. Not here. You can’t afford to. Just- just breathe. In and out. Come on.

When you’re pretty sure you’re not hyperventilating any more, you carefully loosen your grip on your knife. Fuck. You hiss quietly as feeling returns to your fingers; some of them are cut really deep where they’d been digging into the wrong side of the blade. You hadn’t really been feeling it before, but. Whatever. Not much you can do about it right now. 

You place the switchblade, still open and dangerous, gently on the floor next to you. Okay. Your next step is to draw your knees up to your chest, placing your head between them. “Stop it,” you hiss to no one but yourself, “just _stop,_ come on. Think.”

Your first thought is, _who is she,_ and then you have to bite your hand to keep from laughing yourself right back into another panic attack. Now is _really_ not the time for memes, Chara. Fuck. Okay. Think _seriously._

Seriously. Who is she.

Nobody just goes around wearing the Delta Rune. Literally nobody. You can’t. It’s the crest of the royal family, isn’t it? So she would have to be connected to them somehow. Maybe they’re related, or they work for them, or--

Oh. Oh, you get it now. The reason there aren’t any servants here is because they _are_ the servants. It’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s why the outside of this place is for “show”, and there are extra rooms, and Asriel’s mom wears the Delta Rune. Of course. 

But the King and Queen are definitely going to hear about you now. If they haven’t already. And that, that right there- that throws all your expectations for this encounter right out the window.

Because, you see, you’d been expecting a fight, yeah? Like, Asriel’s parents would see you, and they’d challenge you to a fight, because you’re an evil human threatening their family and their town and need to be defeated. And you’d fight them back a little, sure, but you weren’t going to _win._ You’re not _supposed_ to win. You would die. You would finally be dead. And Asriel and his family would be heroes. Right?

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. 

As soon as the King and Queen hear about you, they’re going to want to take you into their custody. Once they do that, there’s no way they can hurt you, not without everything they’ve worked for in the past decade falling apart and war tbreaking out once the humans got wind of it. No. There’d be no fight for you. They’d keep you prisoner. Throw you in a cell for trespassing in their city without proper identification or some other shit excuse, and let you rot until you weren’t their problem anymore. Or they’d make you have an “accident” before too long. Something they couldn’t be blamed for. You’d be gone but there wouldn’t even be any honor or justice or _anything._

No. No, you can’t do that. You can’t. That’s the entire reason you ran away in the first place- you _won’t_ let them do this to you. So you’ll- you can attack them first, before they have the chance to toss you wherever. If you give them a reason, they can claim self defense, right? No one would blame them. You’re an evil human, after all.

Okay. Good. This is good.

You slowly uncurl from your ball, breathing out. You feel much calmer now that you have a plan. Calm enough that you know you can do this. You pick up your knife, sliding it up your sleeve for when you need it. You think you’ll miss that most when you’re gone. It’s always been good to you when you needed it.

You cast one last glance around the room. Your eye catches on the drawings on the wall. Barely even thinking, you walk over to the wardrobe. You open and close various drawers until you find what you’re looking for: a piece of paper, a couple of crayons. Perfect. When you draw, you do it the same way you do most everything else. Quickly. Surely. Efficiently. No room for error. You look it over with a critical eye when you’re done. You nod. It’ll do.

Everything is put neatly back in its place. Like you were never even here. The paper goes on Asriel’s bed, next to the discarded basket. Now you’re ready.

The sound of hushed voices down the hall stops when you open the door.

 

 

 


	3. mm watcha say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a table in the room over. Asriel is sitting in a chair there, facing his mother, who’s pacing back and forth in front of a lit fireplace. Which is sort of weird. It’s the middle of summer. Maybe monsters get cold faster, whatever. Asriel’s mom stops when she sees you standing in the doorway.

There’s a table in the room over. Asriel is sitting in a chair there, facing his mother, who’s pacing back and forth in front of a lit fireplace. Which is sort of weird. It’s the middle of summer. Maybe monsters get cold faster, whatever. Asriel’s mom stops when she sees you standing in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” she asks, not moving towards you, which you guess is a nice sentiment. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to answer that question, though, so you just smile in the way that’s only ever gotten you in trouble before, because if there was ever a time to be looking for trouble, it would be now. All she does is give you a concerned look. You’re kind of disappointed. You glance over to Asriel -- maybe his reaction will be better -- but when you actually really look at him for the first time since stepping into the room, you’re stopped short.

“Were you _crying,_ ” you blurt out. The embarrassment that blooms across his face almost makes you feel bad. You don’t get to feel bad, though. Humans don’t feel bad about anything.

“N-no!” He shakes his head. It’s painfully obvious that he’s lying, though, his eyes are red and puffy and there’s a wadded up tissue in his hand. Even as you watch he has to wipe at his eyes. Something curls uneasily in your stomach at the sight of it. It can’t be regret, or empathy, or anything like that; you settle for disgust. It has to be.

“Oh my god, you _were,_ ” you laugh. “Only babies cry! How old even are you?”

“There is no shame in tears,” his mom intercepts, more gently than is fair. The look she gives you is steady. “It takes much bravery to be open with one’s emotions. That is something that too many forget, I think.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. What a load of bullshit. The blade of your knife presses flat against your wrist like a promise. “Who are you?”

“Oh! Please forgive my rudeness. I am Toriel,” she says, smiling in a painfully genuine way that makes you think you know where Asriel gets it from, “who might you be, child?”

_Dead,_ is the first thing that comes to mind, but that doesn’t fit in the role you’ve set out for yourself. Instead, you snap, “None of your damn business.”

“Why are you being so _rude,_ ” Asriel exclaims, and you snort.

“Why are _you_ being so _stupid._ ” 

That actually has him standing up out of his chair. “Am not!”

“Am too!”

“Your _face_ is--”

“Children!” Toriel cries. The exasperation is nearly palpable. Asriel sits back down, looking properly chastised. You roll your eyes.

“ _Chara_ started it,” he grumbles. You bristle.

“Hey!”

“Regardless,” Toriel starts, “of _who_ started it,” she gives Asriel a stern look, “I do not believe now is the time for arguing.”

Asriel deflates. “Sorry, Mom.” He sounds like he means it. “Sorry, Ch-- um. _You_. Yeah.”

You blink, not expecting that. Toriel seems satisfied, though, because she softens just a little bit.

The blade weighs on your sleeve. Now’s your chance. While her guard is down. You’ll land just one solid hit and she can be done with this whole charade, and then you can be dead, and you won’t have to worry about this shit anymore. Everyone’s problems solved. Something cold and hard and familiar weighs in the pit of your stomach. You think it’s hate.

“Oh, shut up,” you sneer, finally sliding your knife out of your sleeve in a motion that took you forever to get right (you still have some scars), pushing off against the doorway, “I am done playing games.” Toriel’s eyes widen. You think you’ve surprised her. Was she expecting you to play along? Foolish. You would check Asriel’s reaction, but Toriel is suddenly blocking the way, which, really, is just as well; she’s the one you’re going after. There’s a smile stretching over your face that almost doesn’t feel like your own, except you know it is. Whose else would it be? Something flashes in Toriel’s eyes. You lunge--

“And who is this?”

\--but the sudden voice behind you has you whirling around, all your momentum gone into that one motion too strongly to stop, and your blade buries itself in the monster’s stomach.

You back away to the one wall in the room no one is occupying. Your hands are over your mouth. Who put those there?

The monster is- huge. Bigger than Toriel. Big enough that you almost miss the near curious look on his face as he takes in the blade sticking out of his own body.

“Oops,” he says, and you hear a choked noise that might be you. Or Asriel. The monster grips a large hand around the chipped handle of your knife, and when he pulls it out there’s- there’s no dust. There’s no dust. He gently flicks the switchblade closed. It looks like nothing more than a toothpick in his hand. The leather of his armor must have stopped it before it reached his skin. “You should be more careful with your tools, young one,” he says, looking from you to Toriel and back again. “Someone could get hurt.”

Someone laughs. Someone is laughing really hard, and it’s kind of annoying; you wish they would stop, because as the pitch rises it’s getting harder and harder to tell if it’s laughing or crying or both just from the sound of it. It’s coming from you, you think? But it’s not _you_ , because creatures like you don’t laugh or cry, unless it suits them. Maybe that’s it, though. You’re just trying to make them feel bad. It sounds right.

“Chara?”

“I-” You almost don’t recognize your voice. “Please don’t-- don’t make me go back,” you laugh, “please.”

Toriel and the other monster look at each other. In the end, it’s him who approaches you. For given value of “approach”. He just kneels down, so that he’s still tall but not-so, and looks a little to your left.

“Child,” he says, “I am not sure what exactly is going on here, but I think perhaps some reassurances are in order.” His voice is deep. Soft, though. You wonder if it’s more magic. “This is our home. As long as you’re in our home, no matter who you are, you are our guest. It is never our wish to turn out anyone who does not want to leave. It may be more...complicated, at times, but...” He places your folded up switchblade on the floor, within your reach. You don’t understand. “It is nothing a little conversation and tea can’t fix.”

He keeps his gaze steady on the bit of wall just behind you. You think he knows that it would make you jittery to be stared at directly. Considering the fact that you literally just _stabbed_ him after threatening his wife and kid, even if no one got hurt, you really don’t- you don’t get it. Still. You inch forward. He doesn’t move. You slowly stretch out a foot until it rests over the cool metal, pulling it towards you until you’re back where you started. You don’t look down when you bend your knees to pick it up. You stuff it into your jacket pocket.

“What, um,” your voice wavers a little, “what tea do- do you have?”

A smile softens his features. “I’ve made most of them myself. Why don’t I whip something up? I’ve been wanting a cup all day.” He only gets to his feet when you nod. “Tori, be a dear and help me in the kitchen, would you?”

You wipe at your eyes as inconspicuously as possible when Toriel and the dad guy head through a door at the far end of the room. For a few minutes, the only sound is the fire in its place. More than enough time to heat a pot of tea. They’re probably talking about you. You wonder why they’re leaving you alone with their son. You feel like you’re missing something. 

“...Sorry,” Asriel says, “if we scared you.” He’s sitting in his chair still, looking rather frazzled. Maybe scared. You find you can’t look at him for more than a few moments. You pick at some of the blood that’s crusted over the cut on your fingers. The pain is familiar. You wonder if it’ll get infected.

“You didn’t,” you whisper, quietly enough that you’re not sure he even heard you. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

“Oh.” Silence. “Well... I’m sure everything will--”

You pull the hood over your face. He doesn’t say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry shitscram


	4. never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nonsense, dear.” Toriel winks, out of nowhere, “I would say you have it down to a _tea._ ”
> 
> You hastily take a sip to cover up your surprised snort.

There were moments when things weren’t so miserable.

Your favorite memory -- one of the only good ones -- was backdropped in twilight. You were sitting on the porch, watching the stars come out, a bar of chocolate half-eaten in your hands as you and your sibling waited for your parents to come home. You hadn’t had the heart to tell them they would be gone for days without warning, sometimes. It was a shame you’ve come all this way just to miss them, you’d told them, and they’d said yeah. You sure that chocolate’s fine with the almonds in it? they asked. It was the only one I could find on the way here. You told them of course. Stop asking. They laughed and gave you their jacket to wear. It was cold outside. You’d really thought they were going to let you leave with them that time.

But of course they hadn’t. Of course they’d left again without you. And of course that memory had to end, eventually, and things had gone right back to the way they were before.

You let the tea burn the bittersweet taste out of your mouth.

As it turns out, it’s pretty good.

It’s red. Like blood. Kind of. You’d thought it before realizing it looks too much like tea to really actually look like blood at all, but the comparison is delightfully morbid enough that you keep thinking it anyway. You wonder if it might possibly be poisoned.

Asgore sighs into his cup. The introductions had been iffy for a moment, but at least you know everyone’s name now.

“Much better.” He places it gently down on the table, fingers still curled around the handle. “Though perhaps it could have steeped for a little longer.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Toriel winks, out of nowhere, “I would say you have it down to a _tea._ ”

You hastily take a sip to cover up your surprised snort, because that was one of the most awful puns you’ve ever heard and you’ve always been a sucker for the bad ones; you don’t miss how she looks positively delighted by the smothered reaction.

“Mooom,” Asriel groans. You’re a little disappointed when he doesn’t continue on with the whole “you’re embarrassing me” spiel, but you’ll take what you can get. It’s pretty obvious he’s trying not to smile. 

“Now, now,” Asgore gives Asriel a stern look, “let us try to get oolong in front of our guest, shall we?”

“Nope,” Asriel says, “no thanks,” and you almost end up choking from drinking and trying not to laugh at the same time. Asriel shoots you a startled look, but the smile spreads uninhibited across his face when he realizes what happened. Get ahold of yourself, Chara.

“In any case,” Agore laughs, “to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you here today?”

He’s addressing you. You force yourself to stay still in your seat. “Met Asriel at the park,” you tell your tea, and Asriel, bless his soul, immediately picks up after you.

“I was really bored and wanted to go by myself so Mom packed me a lunch,” he says, “and I was reading the book Gerson got me when I noticed someone was sneaking up on me! So I told them it was rude before they could steal the basket and I _totally_ surprised them--”

“I wasn’t trying to steal your basket,” you protest. He gives you a curious look.

“What were you doing, then?”

You can’t stop yourself from shifting a little in your chair. What a dumb thing to get picky about. “I just wanted what was inside the basket,” you mumble, going back to your tea.

“Oh. Okay, well, they wanted what was _inside_ the basket so I gave them a couple sandwiches and we talked a bit. And then I invited them over for dinner.” He looks to his parents, suddenly nervous. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is alright,” Toriel says. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to anything, would you?” she asks you, but you don’t know. You just shake your head. She looks like she’s about to say something else, but then she blinks, and gasps, “Oh, child, your hand.”

You look down. There are smears of red on the side of the cup where your fingers had wrapped around it, staining the white porcelain, and you nearly drop the whole thing in your rush to set it on the table. You wince at the clatter as it hits the wood. At your own forgetfulness. You tuck your injured hand under your arm where it can’t get blood on anything important. “Sorry, I- I’ll clean it up.”

She gets a strange look on her face for a moment, but it’s gone before you can identify it. “May I see your hand?” she asks, holding out her own over the table. It’s very large. She has paw pads. Unsure what it is she wants to do but wanting to disappoint her even less, you hesitantly reach your injured hand towards hers. She is very gentle when she takes it. You manage not to flinch.

Her fur is soft. Looking at your hands side by side, you’re struck, suddenly, with how different they are. And not just the obvious -- how like, your hands are a human’s and hers aren’t, but everything else. Her fur is a creamy off-white; her fingers are clean and neat and unmarred. You’ve never had dark skin, but even so, the dirt stained into your palm makes it look like mud in comparison to hers. The scars spattered everywhere certainly don’t help. She gets a smear of rusted crimson on her fur when she brushes a finger lightly over one of your cuts. You bite on the urge to pull your hand away.

“Monsters are comprised mostly of magic,” she explains. “We do not have much physical matter to our bodies. Therefore, whenever we are injured, we do not bleed. A bit of us dusts away at the worst. Still. Injury is never pleasant. I have been studying healing magic, in an effort to more readily be of help to any who need it.” Her eyes narrow at your hand almost fiercely, but her grip stays soft. “Humans are far more physical than us. What I’ve learned will most likely not work as well for you as a result, but it should still help some, you understand.” She looks up at you and smiles reassuringly. “Would it be alright if I healed what I can?”

You blink. “Uh. Sure? Go wild.”

“This may feel a little strange,” she says, and you nod, bracing yourself for pain that never comes. It’s just- a muted tugging sensation, almost, like there’s something other shifting underneath your skin, and it’s only her warning that keeps you from jerking back your hand. She pulls hers away and the feeling stops.

“That is all I can do for now,” she sighs, sounding a little disgruntled. You bring your hand up under your nose and, yeah, you can already tell the slices in your fingers aren’t as deep as they were before. The persistent ache that’s been making your entire hand throb is gone, too. Monster magic sure is something.

You curl your fingers into your palm, before glancing up at her and shoving your hand back into your lap. “Thanks.”

She smiles. Asriel leans over close to you, shielding his mouth with a hand in a faux-whisper, “Isn’t my mom cool?”

“Yeah,” you say, picking up your cup again with your other hand, because suddenly you don’t want to disappoint him either. It’s a weird feeling. You’re not sure you like it. As you take another sip of the tea, you eye the little container in the middle of the table. The tea is good, but it would be a lot better with some sugar, and you don’t really want to reach across the table when everyone’s attention is on you like this.

“This reminds me, young one,” Asgore says. “I was wondering if--”

“Asgore!” comes a voice from the doorway. Everyone turns. There’s a skeleton there. His clothes are weird, you think, and you turn back in your seat. “There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you!”

“Papyrus!” Asgore greets warmly. “What is it? Do you need something?”

“No,” he says somewhere behind you, and then, “Yes! Sort of! Undyne asked me find out what you were up to. You were supposed to meet us today for a cooking slash sparring session! We were getting worried when you didn’t show up!”

“Oh, shoot.” Asgore presses a hand to his face in your peripheral. “It completely slipped my mind. My apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it!” You can practically feel the dismissive hand-wave. You inch your fingers towards the sugar. “It happens to even the greatest of us. I understand! Will you be joining us later, then?”

“I am afraid not,” Asgore sighs. You spoon as much sugar as you can take at once without spilling any and dump it into your tea. Hm. Maybe one more... “Please tell Undyne I will bring my trident next time to make up for it, would you?” 

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Papyrus says, and the sugar spoon clatters to the table.

“ _Majesty,_ ” you choke, “you’re--” and you stop when your own spit catches in your throat, making you cough. You double over the table, face in your hands. 

“We’ll talk later, Papyrus,” Asgore says, and you don’t hear what the skeleton has to say in return under the sound of his boots stomping away.

“Are you okay?” Asriel asks. You shoot a glare at him between your fingers.

“You didn’t tell me you were _royalty_ ,” you hiss, and he blinks.

“I thought you knew! Um. Surprise?”

“Great,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, “I’m dead,” because you kind of attacked the entire royal family and this is not what you signed up for today. You’re so screwed. You can’t even carry out a death wish without messing it up.

“Nonsense, child,” Her Majesty Toriel Dreemurr, Queen of the Monsters, tells you in the most reassuring voice you’ve ever heard. “I thought you were aware as well. It was a simple mistake.”

“And...regardless,” King Asgore continues, “It does not affect our current conversation in any way. Nothing has changed.”

You kind of can’t stop yourself from glaring at him, too, because of course this changes everything, but when you glance around the table, at their open and earnest expressions, you let your shoulders slump. “Fine,” you grimace, “alright. Nothing’s changed.”

“Excellent.” He beams at you like you’ve said the right thing. “Then, as I was asking before being sidetracked. I was wondering if you wouldn’t be averse to staying the night here with us.”

You’re not exactly sure what look you give him. You’re not even really sure what you feel except for surprise, and suspicion. “What? Why?”

“It takes hours to walk from here to the border. By the time we are finished with our dinner, it will be nightfall, and it would ease my mind greatly to know you were safe.” His expression hardens just a little bit, a seriousness taking shape around his eyes. “Whether they be a monster or human, I consider anyone inside the borders of this town my responsibility. None of us would keep you against your will, of course. But I would at least like you to consider it.”

Oh. So that’s it. He doesn’t want you going out and getting hurt under his watch because if you so happened to get hurt, any word of it that got out of the border would be on his neck. War is what they’ve been trying to prevent, right? It’d defeat the purpose to let one human kid just fuck that all up. You can understand that. 

“Oh-- oh, please stay!” Asriel says, breaking you out of your thoughts. He leans a little closer to you, grinning. “We can have a sleepover! We can make a blanket fort and sleep on the floor and watch this movie Alphys got me and we can have snacks and _everything_. Pleeease?”

You hesitate a little under his enthusiasm. A sleepover does actually sound pretty cool, but--

“Asriel, don’t overwhelm the poor child,” Toriel chides gently. “They have had a long day. They might just want to rest.”

“Yeah, I- I think I’d like that.” You shoot her a grateful glance, before looking back to Asriel, who can’t quite hide his disappointment. “Maybe...Another time?” It’s entirely presumptuous of you, assuming that his parents would even let you come back for “another time”, but you can’t manage to feel bad for the lie when his face just lights up like that. It’s not fair.

“ _Yes,_ ” Asriel hisses, pumping his fist, and you smile a little despite yourself.

“Sounds like a plan!” Toriel grins at all three of you. “I will just get dinner started now, then.”

You shift a little in your chair. If they’re already being so nice to you, you might as well just ask.... “You, uh- you wouldn’t happen to have a shower, would you?”


	5. never gonna run around and desert you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a breath. It smells like red sauce and cinnamon and something else. Probably even more so in the next room.
> 
> One day. You can get through this for one day. Then you’ll be gone.

You spend a good ten minutes just standing under the water, temp set as high as it’ll go without outright blistering your skin. The next ten are used a little more efficiently. You scrub at your legs, your chest, your arms; scraping at the back of your neck leaves enough dead skin and dirt under your nails to make even you grimace, and this stuff is all old news to you. You save your hair for last. Even if it probably should’ve been the other way around. Asriel apparently doesn’t have any shampoo -- does he really need it, though? Can he just like, magic all the gross out of his fur when he showers? Or something? Maybe you should ask him later -- so you just make do with carding your fingers through your hair and trying to get as much of the guck out as possible. It probably would’ve helped to brush it first, but it’s whatever. This is already the cleanest you’ve been in weeks.

You wince a little when you finally step out, your knees protesting the sudden temperature change. “This is how the meatsuit repays me,” you grumble, “fine. I see how it is.” You slap your feet extra hard on the tiled floor before remembering your legs are, in fact, attached to you, and pretend the stinging is totally something you planned from the beginning. Absolutely.

Your clothes wait folded for you on top of counter. Well. Not _your_ clothes. The clothes they’re letting you borrow, since you don’t have any extra. You make a face as you unfold them, because in your impatience to use an Actual Shower you had entirely forgotten to ask for long sleeves, but these clothes have little flower patterns on them that are actually kind of cute, so you’re willing to forgive and forget.

The towel you used gets folded and draped over the side of the tub when you’re done changing and wiping up the water you dripped over the floor. The shower curtain is readjusted. The shower mat is shifted just a little back into place. That’s really all you touched, so you don’t have anything else to stall yourself with, which is a shame. 

You go out of your way to avoid checking yourself in the mirror before you leave. You already know you’re not going to like what you see, and you’re not sure you would be able to keep your nerve and actually leave the bathroom if you looked. It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassing. Just suck it up and go already.

You open the door.

You hear laughter.

And it stops you, because it’s actual, for real, certified laughter, full-throated and bubbly and nothing at all like the panicked wheezy fits you sometimes manage to squeeze out of your chest when you try really hard and believe in yourself, or when you’re not trying at all. Asgore says something you can’t make out in that deep voice of his, and whatever Toriel has to say in return gets all three of them busting out into that same laugh again. They sound happy. 

They...

Suddenly, more than anything, you want to be anywhere else but here, and nowhere else but _there_ , all of it so badly that you don’t know what to do with the familiar sharp stabbing sensation in your chest. You very nearly step back and shut the door right there. But you hear your name, a question in the lilt of Asriel’s distinct little voice, and you know you couldn’t hide forever even if you wanted to. You shouldn’t want to. You shouldn’t want any of this actually, but here you are.

You take a breath. It smells like red sauce and cinnamon and something else. Probably even more so in the next room.

One day. You can get through this for one day. Then you’ll be gone.

You close the door behind you extra loud, so they know you’re coming, and you can’t help the actual, for real, certified smile on your face at the sound of feet on the wooden planked floor running to meet you.

It’s dangerous.

 

 

Despite your best efforts, you’re nearly falling asleep in your chair by the time dinner is over. It’s monster food, but it’s really, _really_ good monster food, and you’re even almost full when you finish it. It’s probably a good thing. You definitely would’ve gotten sick from overeating if it was human food. You try your best to keep up with the conversation, but it’s been a long day and you’re starting to drift, spacing out at your empty plate as your body tries to steal rest you can’t give it yet.

“Chara,” Toriel says, and she politely doesn’t say anything about you jumping in response, “would you like me to show you to your room?”

You blink at her, and then down at the messy table. “The dishes?” you ask, which is probably the most eloquent you’ve been all day. Her expression softens a little.

“Asriel can help with those,” she says, and he immediately gives a little _Oh!_ and jumps up, collecting all of your plates. “I think it’s about time you got settled in for the night.”

“Okay,” you say, and you stand when she does. The sound of a faucet running in the kitchen follows you as you let her lead you down the hall. She stops in front of a closed door.

“This is it!” she says, hands clasped in front of her. “It is not much, but I hope you like it.”

“Thank you,” you tell her, but she stops you as you reach for the handle.

“Chara,” she starts, falteringly. You pause and look at her. You wonder for a moment if she’s going to say something about the scars littering your arms that these short sleeves do nothing to hide, or maybe even your black eye. You kind of want her to, just to see what she what it is she would say at all. Maybe offer to heal you again. “...Child,” she continues, finally, “if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call any of us. No matter the time. We will always be here.”

Well. That’s not what you were expecting.

“Okay,” you say again, swallowing this promise that you will never let yourself keep. You think that maybe you should say something else, because it kind of looks like she’s expecting you to, but the words are just out of reach, taunting you. You nod instead. That seems to be enough for her.

“Sleep well, child,” she says. Her claws tap quietly on the floor as she walks away.

The room is...practical. There’s a rug, and a bed, and a window. There’s only a few pairs of socks in the dresser pushed up against the wall when you check it. Which is kind of weird. Maybe the last person to use it left them here or something.

Your clothes are folded on the bed. They’re still warm when you paw at them, like they’ve just been taken out of the dryer. Your jacket is there at the very top; the relief you feel when you pick it up nearly makes your head hurt. Still here.

You put it on over your pajamas. Its weight loosens the tight ball of anxiety that had been building in your chest, and you breathe in the smell of lavender laundry soap, zipping it up all the way until you’re drowning in it. This is the cleanest it’s been since your sibling gave it to you. You feel kind of bad. You really should have taken better care of it.

“You’re clean now, though,” you tell it, frowning as you pick at the sleeves. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

The jacket, of course, doesn’t answer back. But you didn’t really expect it to.

There’s a knock on the door.

You stiffen, waiting for someone to come in. Nothing happens. You shift a little on the bed, wondering what they want.

“...Yes?” you ask.

“It’s me,” comes Asriel’s voice from the other side of the door, and you relax a little. You get up and pad over.

“What do you want?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. Not opening it, though. There’s a pause.

“Just wanted to say goodnight,” he says. “And, um, Mom made some pie for dessert, but I know you really want to sleep, so. I’m going to save a slice for you for later!”

You stare at the wood of the door. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to. I think you’ll like it. It’s my mom’s special recipe, she says you can’t get it anywhere else. Isn’t that neat?”

“Yeah.” You pick at your sleeves some more. “Sounds nice.” When was the last time you had pie? You don’t remember. You had to have had it sometime, though. You think you can almost recall apple on your tongue, in a distant sort of way, but you’re not sure. Maybe for a birthday? You realize you’ve been standing here in thought for several long seconds not saying anything, making him wait, and you shake your head. Nice job.

“Goodnight, Asriel,” you tell the door. The door doesn’t answer.

“Goodnight, Chara,” Asriel replies. He stands there for a moment, you think, before you hear the sound of his feet tapping away. 

You don’t move for a while. You’re tired, but the wooden grain of the door keeps drawing your eyes back to it, and you don’t really feel like pushing off from your spot against the frame. You think about opening the door. You think about going out there and joining them for dessert. You think about their smiling faces, smiling at you, joking around with each other in a way that isn’t mean at all. Someone says something about that one being really _crumby_. Probably Toriel. Agore will tell her that her jokes are getting crusty. You’ll say something about how it was _slice_ to meet them all today, and they’ll all laugh, even Asriel. Asgore will tell you you can have another one, because that was really good. You think about smiling, actually, for real.

You stand up straight and turn back to the bed. You can already tell from sitting on it that it’s way too soft, and someone put it in the middle of the room like a total weirdo, so you take a pillow and bring it with you underneath. It’s dark. Close. You like small spaces though, ones that are good to hide in like this, so it’s no problem. There’s more than enough room for you to lie on your back and stare up and the bottom of the bed. 

Your eyes fall closed without much input from you. Which is fine. You really want today to be over. Once it’s morning, you can leave, and go far away, and you’ll never have to think about Boss Monsters or pie or real, actual laughter ever again. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You always are.

 

The next morning, Asriel presents the slice of pie to you with a proud smile on his face and an expectant look in his eyes. Toriel doesn’t say anything about pie not being breakfast food. You eat the whole thing, and aren’t even lying when you tell him it’s the best pie you’ve ever had. He plans out your whole day together. He’s going to introduce you to all his friends, he says. You’ll love the lab. It’s really cool. It’ll be so much fun. And gosh, he adds, then we can have the sleepover!

Needless to say, leaving is the last thing on your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand that's it for this one! there's going to be more in this series though, so if you like what you've seen so far, keep an eye out!

**Author's Note:**

> i have plans for this au. so many plans. this fic itself shouldn't be too long though!


End file.
